“I ordered him to rescind the princess’s punishment and bring her here, to assume her rightful place as the daughter-in-law of Rajgarh,” said Bheesmala, looking at his queen for answers. “What if I am making another mistake? You know how hard he took the death of his friend. Now he’s going to bring that murderer back into our midst. I’m afraid of how he will handle it.”
“Veer isn’t an inexperienced green lad, my dear,” she said. “He is and has been an adult even before he became one. Trust your son to do the right thing.”
They both descended into a comfortable silence. Archana Devi spoke after a while. “We should have overridden his sentence a long time ago. It’s barbaric.”
“It’s the law,” said Bheesmala pragmatically. “In fact, the punishment was decreased to mere whip lashes because of the princess’s status. Anyone else would have been put straight to death for murder.”
“It certainly didn’t do his reputation any good, subjecting a woman to such harsh punishment. He never got rid of his unfortunate epithet.” She blew out a breath. “Our people love him well enough. But he isn’t just going to be a king, he is going to be an emperor. He needs to know how the rest of the Saptavarsha works and gain their respect.”
“I admit he can be blind to the traditions and customs of the people on the subcontinent,” said Bheesmala, feelingdefensive on behalf of his son, but also understanding that she had a point. “It’s partly the reason we wanted him to wed an Amaravathi’s princess, so she could serve as a bridge and soften his image. Alas, how I wish he had chosen anyone else other than Princess Chandrasena.”
“On the contrary,” said Archana Devi, joining her husband at watching the road, “something tells me that Chandrasena is exactly what Veer needs.”
Bheesmala didn’t even bother disputing his queen’s observation, settling instead for a safe noncommittal noise. A few years ago, he remembered his wife had tried to get Veer to relax his stance regarding the princess, giving up only when their son had started to distance himself. He could label it as having a soft spot for the much-maligned princess, but…Bheesmala knew his queen wasn’t a naive bleeding heart. As the former spymaster of Rajgarh, she tended to know more information than most. But she also had this annoying habit of keeping secrets and suspicions to herself, until she had all the details.
“There is another thing that bothers me, Devi,” he said, turning to her, revealing another source of his worry. “If the legend of Meru is well known in the south, why are we just now finding out about it?”
Part 3
AMARAVATHI
Chapter 5: An Impromptu Rescue
On a stormy night, with the wind howling across the hilly nooks and deep gullies, under the sparse cover of thesalandmahuatrees and scattered boulders, a group of soldiers lay in wait. The place was called the Borderlands, a narrow but long strip of land hugging the banks of the River Tripti, as it cut its way across the rocky tableland, forming a natural border between the three kingdoms of Thianvelli, Amaravathi, and Hoysyala.
The Borderlands was a place of lawlessness, of roaming bandit troops, solitary thieves, and murderers. Criminals flocked to this place. Because at the edge of any kingdom, they were the farthest from the long arm of law, and while they could hop across the borders with impunity, the military wasn’t allowed to move as freely. And because the merchants and the refugees that frequented this place offered rich pickings.
An Amaravathi commander watched, as a man ran toward the narrow rope bridge strung across the two banks of the River Tripti as it flowed into the deep gorge that separated the two kingdoms of Amaravathi and Thianvelli.
A parcel of riders chased the man, the flame of their torches dancing in the stormy wind. The sound of hoofbeats filled the air and as they came closer, the random bursts of lightning illuminated their distinct armor.
“That man’s not Girish,” said one of her men. In the dark, their group had all their attention focused on the chase unfolding before their eyes.
Through a gap in the rocks, which formed their hideout, the commander observed silently as an arrow struck the man, making him stumble to his knees. He was halfway across the rope bridge and clutched at the wildly swinging bridge with one hand.
“No, he isn’t. And those are the royal guards of Thianvelli. Did you notice their insignia —the lotus bud entwined by the serpent,” she said, pitching her voice low like that of a man, more out of habit than a continued need to disguise the fact that she was a woman. She was pretty sure that her men already guessed it, even if they didn’t suspect her true identity. Or call it to her face.
Guruji’s hand-picked men were loyal and followed orders implicitly. Girish, her personal guard, was the only one who knew. But he was on the other side of the ravine, in Thianvelli, doing what was supposed to have been her task. Guruji, the prime minister of Amaravathi and her mentor, had stated clearly that she wasn’t to step foot there. Even in disguise.
“He must be an important criminal, pursued almost to the edge of Thianvelli,” said another man, hiding a yawn behind his hand.
Everyone was tired. They were at the end of their days-long mission to secure an audience with the deposed queen of Thianvelli. The last few nights were spent on keeping a sleepless vigil for Girish’s return, and the lack of rest and anxiety wastaking a toll on everyone. They didn’t need distractions of this nature.
She leaned forward with interest. Strange. Despite what had to be a poisoned arrow in his back—Thianvelli’s arrows were always poisoned—the man showed no signs of slowing and continued his attempts to cross the bridge.
The Thianvellian guards had reached the edge of the rope bridge and dismounted. Even at this distance, she sensed their hesitation in stepping on Amaravathi’s land. The man stopped and stood facing his enemies, as if daring them to come near. A dull red glow had enveloped his free arm.
Time stood still as nature itself seemed to pause its fury, as if waiting for something to happen. Then, lightning split the sky, temporarily blinding everyone. In the following peal of thunder, the red light disappeared, and she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing.
She made her decision in an instant and gave instructions to her men. Drawing her own bow and arrow from her shoulder holster, she nocked a trio of arrows into her bow, taking aim at the bridge.
The wind was fierce gale now, but she knew her weighted arrows wouldn’t be blown off course. Closing her eyes briefly, she concentrated on her surroundings. The wind, the rain, the wild neighing of the horses receded from her consciousness. She opened her eyes, and her target came into focus, filling her vision.
The ropes anchoring the bridge on Thianvelli’s side snapped with a twang and the bridge fell, carrying the man down with it.
Across the bank, the Thianvellian guards halted in surprise as they registered her presence. But they wasted no time finding shelter in a cluster ofmahuatrees on their side and answered her offensive with more arrows aimed at her hiding place.
Their skirmish lasted a short while until the skies opened to a torrential downpour. The inclement weather made it impossible to sustain their fight and the other party seemed to come to the same realization as they retreated, calling it quits for the day.
